Sad Wolf
by Void
Summary: Pieced together from what I've written of Lupin over the years, AU past OotP. "Losing the star without a sky, Losing the reasons why, You're losing the calling that you've been faking, And I'm not kidding. It's damned if you don't and it's damned if you do. Be true, 'cause they'll lock you up in a sad, sad zoo."
1. James

James despises secrets. He feels that he has a right to know everything he wishes to know. That he _chooses_ to remain ignorant about some things... Well. It's his decision. He still has control.

Lily flaunts her power over him. Secrets glimmer in her eyes, perch at the corners of her smile, and if he could just _reach_ and _capture_ that smile, that glinting... something... If he could just trap her in his arms, her dancing, flying, sparkling laugh... Plunder it from her mouth, her body... If only... If only... She teases him and that infuriates him.

He covets her secrets. He wants them so badly it keeps him up at night; curtains pulled closed, staring into the darkness, yanking off and thinking of ways to attain her. His obsession disgusts him, but he can only imagine a single cure. If it even _is_ possible to possess that... that glimmer. Even if he had her pinned beneath him, completely at his mercy, he suspects she would still be laughing, eluding him.

As much as he wants to slake his need for Lily, he wants to reduce Severus Snape into insignificance. The greasy Syltherin is nothing but an accumulation of things hinted at but never said. Silent and dark and creeping through the filth of his own shame. He had his slinking, shrinking, unobtrusive habits before James ever laid eyes on him; it was up to James to take offense at the Darkness that clings to Severus like a smog. The horror, the power, the endless possibilities... It's all there, lurking in Severus's black eyes, nothing but fleeting shadows and shapes.

James doesn't _want_ to know what goes in Severus's mind. He doesn't want to _understand_ Severus at all. By belittling Severus, steadily crushing him... James tries to deny the fact that the Darkness he despises could be powerful enough to destroy him.

Then... There is Sirius.

Sirius and James have no secrets.

There are things, many things, that they don't acknowledge. Their world is limited to school and daydreams and girls and quidditch. And Sirius's family, Sirius's mood swings, James's need to be in control... These things are present between them, known of, but never spoken out loud. Their friendship balances on the unspoken foundations of leader and subordinate, weak and strong, and shared goals with dissimilar origins.

James says nothing about Sirius and Remus and the... connection, almost palpable, that glues them to each other, gaze to gaze, soul to soul. Possessing and possessed. They have their own dynamic, present but subtly shifting since the very first moment that Sirius and James walked into what they thought was an empty compartment, walked into the story of a sleepy, shy, delicate-looking boy. James was wary, but Sirius was excited, fascinated, enthralled.

James says nothing, but he sees very well.

Remus. Has. Secrets.

 _Werewolf_ barely begins to encompass the lies that dwell within those passive eyes.


	2. Snape

It wasn't hard at all to remember glinting blue eyes, a hand closed around his throat. Odd, how the terror could spring up anew, with all of the memories that had gone after, that should have superceded it...

Black was mad. Black was homicidal. Severus had _known_ , but no one (not Dumbledore, though it was hard, given his own circumstances, to find fault wilth the man for being blind to a person's darkness) had done anything about it. And Black had torn apart the fabric of his perfect friendships and Black had murdered innocents and _Black_ had sprung free and was coming back for more.

Albus had opened their doors to Black's werewolf lover.

Snape put a hand to the cool stone wall of his dungeon and tried to repress the growing urge to vomit. It was absurd; he was beyond this. ...Exactly; he was _beyond_ this, so why did all of it insist on coming back?

He remembered a gentle boy with autumn hair and eyes and a shy smile. So kind and placid... infinitely mild, was Remus.

He remembered snapping jaws and slavering tongue and those _eyes_ and knowing, for the first time in his life, that he was going to die. All will to live draining out of him in the face of that inevitable mouth lunging toward him.

He had closed his eyes then, a second before James appeared from nowhere to save the day. Sometimes he felt as though he had never reopened them. Seventeen years later he was _still_ waiting for the jaws to rip into him, still anticipating the end.

Lupin had passed him in the hall the other day, a soft smile too weary to reach his shadowed eyes. "Severus." A gentle, unassuming word, greeting his colleague, greeting an old acquaintance from school. As if there was nothing at all between them, as if Severus had never _seen_ what lay behind the facade.

Seventeen years ago, gentle eyes too weary, too ashamed to meet his own. And Severus had thought, for a moment, _it wasn't his fault_. For a moment, he felt only pity, reached out and tentatively touched the thin shoulder. A shuddering breath, and then _those_ eyes gazing at the meal they had lost.

Remus had stared him down, revealing himself, sending a clear message - _stay away_. There had been no apology in those eyes.

Less than a month later, Severus found them in the library. Remus Lupin was devouring Sirius Black. Those delicate hands were tangled in the other boy's hair as his lips and teeth and tongue crushed into neck and collarbone, Sirius writhing and whimpering like a wounded animal, pressing back with his hips. It had taken Severus several moments to truly comprehend what he was seeing.

 _Together_. Scholar, werewolf, prankster, _murderer_. Twined together. The same.

Let Dumbledore deny it. Let Lupin hide behind those gentle eyes and weary smile. Severus _knew_.

Thirteen years before, Sirius Black had betrayed his friends and spared his lover. There was nothing to suggest to Severus that Remus Lupin would not do the same. So let him win the hearts of the staff and the students, gathering in sympathy like fallen leaves. Severus would brew a potion to preclude one of his more apparent dangers, and as for the others, he would watch. Watch and wait.

The malevolent arrogance of Sirius Black, the memory of it, the potential for it now that he was loose, hung about Remus Lupin's back like a possessive shadow.


	3. The Condition of Forgiveness

The first time, Remus shoved him against a bookshelf, shoved hands into his hair and tongue into his mouth. Tortuous rubbing and throbbing and when he pulled back, Sirius couldn't breathe.

"Only because you love me."

His (warm amber) moon-yellow eyes were dry and ruthless, his (gentle, smiling) swollen mouth panting a lewd blood-red.

"If I didn't believe you loved me, Padfoot..."

Desperation and shame and sorrow but _Yes!_ and all he wanted was to reach out and... touch... Gentle. Tentative. Soft. If Remus weren't staring at him trying to believe his own words.

"I love you."

Neglecting _I'm sorry_.


	4. Young Lovers

Clueless. Idiotic. _Thoughtless…_

"Remus? Remus, what's wrong with you?"

 _Blind._ Stupid. Hopeless…

"God damn it, Remus! How the hell am I supposed to help you if you won't talk to me?"

 _Stupid_ stupid stupid…

"FINE! STAY in there! You know, I'm really getting goddamn sick of this, Moony! Why can't you just…? FUCK!"

Stupid. Fucking. Moron.

"Why won't you just tell me… tell me what's wrong?"

Why can't you just leave me alone?

"Fuck it, Moony… Just fuck it fuck it fuck it…"

Sorry, Padfoot. Sorrier than you can know.

They lean against either side of a thin wooden door. One presses his forehead to it near the top, tracing nonsense patterns with his finger, feeling the grain of the wood. His face is passive, almost serene. The other sits heavily on the floor, his face damp with sweat, mind in turmoil.

 _So you can't keep a job. Well what the fuck do they know?_

But he can't speak the words. He can picture the anger that would sizzle in Moony's throat, in his eyes…

It dawns on him: It isn't the situation but the _injustice_ of it that upsets his friend.

He pictures those eyes, fixed on him, perpetually expectant, perpetually disappointed.

 _What do you want?_

 _What can I do?_

And he knows what Moony would say: _Nothing._

House him, clothe him, feed him, don't say a word when he's late with the rent, don't say a word to insist that he _doesn't have to pay…_

Assignments for the Order and he comes back looking tired, looking old…

 _We're barely twenty._

 _Barely twenty…_ He jumps up and wrenches the door open. Startled, Moony makes no move to keep it shut, stumbles a few feet into the room.

"Come on, Moony. We never properly celebrated your birthday."

Remus stares at him in astonishment. Sirius doesn't give him a chance to argue.

An hour later, they are getting jolly drunk and James has joined them. Two hours later, Peter has been tracked down. A stop in every pub, James insists. He wants to get smashed.

"Something to announce," he slurs, peering into his firewhiskey. He then glances up and flashes all of them his snarkiest grin. "Lily's up the duff. We're getting married."

Peter gasps. Remus and Sirius stare, Sirius's jaw hanging open.

"You right bastard!"

And then they're all on him, Sirius especially, drinks and chairs overturned, whoops of congratulation and wallops on the back. The bartender wanders over at the commotion and when he deciphers it gives James a gallon-size stout, on the house; he'll need it. Sirius shouts to all who can hear that this round's on him. His best friend and blood brother about to get married, about to be a dad. Perfect strangers now smiling and joking and offering crude advice.

Remus stands aside and smiles gently, his head oddly clear.

James deserves this. He deserves the shouts and the attention and the love and the headaches and the diapers and the nagging and everything, everything he gets…

Remus reflects that none of this will ever be for him.

Sirius glances at him, his own wicked grin faltering a bit.

Not for either of them, he hopes.

He hopes.

He smirks and tips his glass to his flatmate, who hesitates before tipping his glass likewise.

"To the unborn Potter brat!"

Cheers.


	5. 1980

February

xxx

Young lovers suffer nightmares.

Remus _believed_ in his dreams.

Sitting up in the middle of a cold night, looking at the black silk spread over his pillow, hearing the complacent snores. _What are you doing here?_ Watching the lines of the smooth, strong back in the moonlight (three nights past; waning moon). _How did you come to be here? How is it that you are still in my bed?_

Young lovers suffer nightmares.

In his dreams, Remus walked and ran and trudged alone.

xxx

March

xxx

Sirius didn't fear the future.

The fate his parents had held before him like a warning – his father's large, heavy, frowning brows, lecturing him; his mother's shrieking voice, rebuking him; his brother's sly grin, sure of his ruin.

His future was red and white and violent as a werewolf's bite (funny how everything reminded him of Remus). His future was green as the killing curse.

Sirius was ready.

And while they frowned and shrieked and smiled, Sirius would laugh.

Because while they frowned and shrieked and smiled, Sirius would take _their_ future – prim and proper and easy and _vile_ \- down with him.

xxx

July

xxx

Remus despised the present. He hated the restrictions. He hated the scowl on his face, which threatened to become a _snarl_ every time something he requested (politely, ordinarily) was denied.

Turned down for another job and he wanted to bare his teeth and _really_ make them fear.

And then he wished that someone from the Registry would find him and just put him down.

There was a war on.

But they didn't need that excuse.

xxx

August

xxx

Sirius knew damn well what was waiting for him. He accepted it. He _embraced_ it.

What he didn't know, what frightened him, was what was waiting for Remus. Not _giving in_ , Hell no, until they had him tagged and quarantined, until they had a collar on him, until they locked him in a _cage_. That, they would fight. _Sirius_ would fight it, even if Remus wouldn't.

'No, Sirius. I have to go in. There's a war on. There's nothing we can do.' Calm, forgiving smiles that Sirius had learned not to trust.

Sitting in Order meetings and watching the _blank quiet_ in Remus's eyes.

Sirius knew damn well what was waiting for him.

What he didn't know, what frightened him, was what Remus would do.

xxx

October

xxx

Remus tried not the think about the future. He tried not to dwell on the past, especially as some aspects of it still slept next to him, still woke up in the morning blinking brilliant cerulean eyes, smile pure and innocent and untouched before Sirius thought up his first prank for the day.

Remus hadn't even thought about his brother in years, but then the New Moon Massacres began.

He used to have this fantasy. Romulus (blood thick and dark and splattered all about his head and neck, eyes wide and frightened, mouth gasping) had lived through the attack. They said he was dead but Remus just stared at them and knew they were wrong.

Because sometimes he dreamed of a moon that loved him, of running wild and free and sinking his teeth into living bones, bathing his snout in blood… Those weren't his dreams. They couldn't be his dreams.

He had the fantasy that really _he_ had been the cold, frightened, unseeing corpse. And Romulus was the monster. Because Romulus had always been a monster. Haughty laugh and sinister smile, Romulus who loathed his weaker, more timid twin, Romulus who said, 'You're just the left-over bits of _me_.'

Romulus lying on the dark, damp forest floor, helpless, terrified. For once, Remus could look down on his brother. For just one moment, looking down, not even shocked, until a huge, horrible weight knocked him down, and Remus remembered no more.

And now Voldemort was giving werewolves power on new moons. The other members of the Order shook their heads and frowned; couldn't understand the temptation of unbridled violence.

Remus understood perfectly.

Romulus, had he lived, would have leapt at the chance.

The other members watched Remus with wariness, with suspicion in their eyes. They didn't understand what made him different from the werewolves who turned, who embraced the freedom and the power that Voldemort promised them.

It was the difference between Remus and an identical boy who had once threatened to steal back the face he said was rightfully his alone.

Remus had always hated his brother.

xxx

December

xxx

On full moon nights, they used a pen, a cage, magically sealed, because the Registry was watching Remus's apparation movements. They couldn't reach Hogsmeade. They couldn't reach anything but the Ministry-certified containment device hidden in their basement.

Transformations had never been more painful. The wolf had never been this _wild_ before. Padfoot almost lost an eye one month, and then Remus forbade him to join him.

Remus also told him strictly not to watch.

Sirius had never been very good at following instuctions.

As a human, he could feel warm, wet tracks flow from his eyes, slow and steady and ceaseless, watching the wolf struggle, desperate, frantic, _crazed_ , to reach him, finally turning on itself out of frustration.

As a dog, he howled to shake the moon with his sorrow, but the wolf didn't even seem to notice its mate.

He didn't begrudge Remus the _fight_ in those amber eyes, the _resistance_.

The time would come when Remus wouldn't be able to take any more.

Sirius welcomed it. He _wanted_ his lover to lose his stifling passivity, his merciless self-control.

But he bought silver bullets.

When the time came, if the time came, they would go down together. And Remus would have harmed no one but his lover and himself.


	6. 1981

Sirius is bleeding,  
But not so's you'd notice.  
Tosses his black mane over his shoulder  
And grins his wicked grin.

Caresses the Bitch's chrome and leather,  
Working the polish in the cracks,  
Tight blue jeans  
Caressing that ass.

To the boys and girls on David Street,  
That bike's his only lover.  
He croons Queen songs to her  
And pretends he doesn't notice  
All those pretty, hungry eyes,  
Mouths open, staring at him.

But Sirius is bleeding.  
'Coz in a second-floor apartment,  
Cheap furnished flat,  
There's a window framed by ivy  
That looks down on the punks and the traffic.

A man sits alone.  
And that man is quiet.  
That man will never whimper.  
That man will never fight.  
And no matter what Sirius does,  
That man's already lost.

Sirius lights a fag  
As the light drains out of the sky.  
A girl in a short skirt, painted cheeks passes  
And Sirius flashes a smile,  
Winks to see her blush.

And when he flexes his muscles  
Under his t-shirt three sizes too small,  
He feels the jagged edges of his heart  
Cut deep, deep into his chest.

Sirius is bleeding.  
And among the grease, sweat, and foodstains  
On that old, faded shirt  
Are spots of red.


	7. The Traitor

He saved their lives like he was cursing them. That was how she knew he was telling the truth.

"Traitor in your midst." His mouth twisting around the words, deep eyes full of contempt for them, for their friends, for himself for helping them.

James had tensed as though he would hit him, and Severus tensed as though he would take the blow.

That was how she knew he was telling the truth.

After Severus took his leave, James looked at her with his eyes hard, his voice dead: "Remus." His friend. Their dear friend. Something off about him, of course. Something off with everyone in these troubled times. Pitiable Remus. But there was a affection and there was trust and didn't take a heartbeat for Lily to agree.

Murder in James' tensed muscles and Lily's mind singing, ' _Kill the werewolf!_ ' her arms clutching Harry close. But that would be a rash act. There was no room for rash acts, now.

And she remembered the haunted looks Severus cast about their house, the way his gaze skittered away from Harry, the stiff set of his shoulders when he got up to leave. She wished she could call him back, just once. Sit him down and make him tea. Sit him down and climb into his lap and put her tongue down his throat to _thank him_ for saving them. Because no one else would. Because the hatred between Severus and James was huge and heavy and hot and slow, and Severus saved them anyway.

Because their hatred was hot and thick and Lily could only stand outside it when she wanted to be in between, rubbing one then the other, because she passioned James but she wanted to _know_ Severus, wanted to look into those fathomless eyes and find what James wanted to destroy.

But he always walked away. Like this was just another unpleasant fact of his life, another piece of penance for his sins.

It seemed lifetimes ago Lily had used him to flaunt her power over James. 'Leave him _alone_ ,' she had said, and only figured out later, years later, James with boiling hatred in his eyes at Severus in their home – it hadn't been that easy. She'd been naïve about so many things.

James with fire in his eyes and Severus the cold black surface, soaking up his ire and betraying nothing but a delicate sneer, and James had lost. Severus had seen more frightening things than an arrogant Gryffindor with a stick.

And Harry always smiled when Severus was around. He's give them Hell before and after, but… something about the nose, perhaps. Babies liked strange shapes. Sometimes he reached for Severus, and Severus looked away, acted as though he hadn't seen.

But Severus had saved them. They would go into hiding with the strongest protection loyalty could buy.

Sirius would die for them. Sirius would kill for them. (But he wouldn't kill Remus.)

And Lily had the mad idea to suggest Severus Snape.

But it would compromise _his_ position; it would interfere with his self-inflicted suffering, and Lily knew how Severus cherished _that_.

She trusted him. If only because James despised him so, and the only thing James despised was a contradiction – How can someone be Dark and _good_?

She wanted to kiss him and thrust her hand into his pants, yank him off to give him pleasure, show him someone _cared_ for him.

She wanted to put her hands on James' shoulders and say, _It will be all right. Protect him_.

She told him, "Take care of yourself, Severus," and her eyes said, _You're bound to us now. Forever._

Forever.

She would have said, "Never forget this," if she'd known.


	8. The Secret Keeper

The logical thing would have been for James himself to act as Secret Keeper for his wife and his son.

Sirius Black, who himself had taken to drink (was it when Regulus died? or was it when Remus tried to throw him out that one time, before realizing that Sirius held the deed to their flat?), told James in no uncertain terms that he was not _allowed_ to take such a risk himself. Something about preserving the family life that he and Remus would never be able to have.

Remus had taken to disappearing for weeks at a time. The Ministry restricted werewolf movements, werewolf interaction with Muggles. So Sirius didn't follow him, after the first time, when he found him working at a Muggle bar. Sirius had been questioned by the authorities later (they were questioning everyone, everywhere, hoping for any information to use against Voldemort). They wanted to throw Remus in Azkaban. They settled for a fine.

Days before the Fidelius Charm, James asked him, "What will you do, Padfoot, if they use Remus against you? What will you do if Remus himself wants you over on their side? Will you be able to say no?"

He honestly hadn't expected the look of haggard desperation that was Sirius's response, the "Jamie... I don't know." He took it like a punch in the gut. Somehow, he supposed, he had been hoping... But Sirius had been desperate for Remus for years. A simple matter like betrayal wouldn't stop him.

And then, "Look, I've been thinking." A Sirius plan. Guaranteed to be brilliant, insane, and just within the realm of the possible. "Let everyone believe that I'm the Secret Keeper. Let me hide. Let me run. And meanwhile-" Here his voice dropped. The old conspiratorial whisper, but without the mischievous glint. It had been absent for a while. " _Have Peter undergo the charm instead_."

"Peter...?" Peter had been a fading presence in their lives. He and Lily weren't comfortable around each other. He always looked at Harry as though terrified the infant would break in his care. Lily was content to let him think so.

"Yes. Look. James. Let me _do this_ for you. Let me do it for _him_. Maybe if he sees... I don't know. If he sees..."

"Sirius. We _know_ that there's a traitor." He wouldn't tell Sirius why. Sirius wouldn't understand Snape's duplicity, would probably only compromise the man's position. "You don't honestly think... I mean... It _has_ to be Remus. Whatever they did to get him, he's theirs." James perhaps should have felt sad or hurt, should have felt something like what Sirius felt, but part of him had always known Remus for a Dark Creature, something not to be trusted.

Sirius looking at him with Padfoot's despairing eyes. "I know. But even so... I have to go after him."

"You mean get captured and tortured until they discover that you're no use to them and then kill you."

"Better than just holing up and waiting to be destroyed."

James's level, displeased gaze was lost on Sirius. As, apparently, was his own reference to the Potters' situation.

"He's _with them_ , Jamie. Like you said. I need a chance. Maybe if he sees... Maybe if I _lose_ myself, like he did. And Peter will stay quiet and out of trouble, 's what he's good at, and someday Dumbledore will figure out how to take that crazy bastard down, and you and Lily and the squirt will be safe, and it will all have been worth it."

"And what about _you_ , Sirius?" All the messy emotional stuff they'd never spoken, never even touched... _You're my best friend._ "Your godson needs you."

The wry grin that was all motorbikes and pranks on Slytherin, breaking, somewhat, like after a howler from home. "But I need Remus. If he's lost, so am I."

xXxXx

James didn't say anything against it after that. Peter seemed to throw himself into the role of Secret Keeper, and James was reminded unpleasantly of all the times he'd encouraged the blonde boy at school, only to regret it later when Peter showered him with praise and attention. He had thought that maybe Peter was developing his own life.

But in the end he could look at his wife and son, he could look at the sanctuary that Dumbledore's most powerful magic had wrought, and feel hope.

They would be safe.


	9. 1977

"It does no good to cry," his mother used to insist, standing with her hands on her hips and desperate to make him understand. _It does no good to cry_ , even when her own tears flowed.

Graduation was looming. Peter thought he finally understood what she meant.

James didn't even seem to see him anymore. That glint, that wicked glint when he used to laugh at Peter (He could be funny! And even if he didn't always know what they were laughing at, what mattered was that _he_ mattered; _his place_ in their group mattered), but now James spent all his time smiling at _her_.

Of course, Lily was beautiful and vivacious and smart and she could actually _talk_ to James. Even if she was play-insulting him. Even if just in half-formed phrases, staring into each other, glistening grey-hazel and bold green eyes, murmuring meaningless words, but then they would _lean in_ for one of those soft, wet kisses like they were holding back, saving it all up for when James would waltz out of the common room with his most self-assured grin, stagger back in an hour later barely able to speak his own name.

Peter couldn't hate Lily. Peter was Peter and Lily was Lily and James wanted Lily but sometimes James saw _him_ ; James _had_ to know what it meant, Peter all caught up in reflecting James's greatness back at him, even when Peter couldn't form the words. Couldn't begin to say what he wanted, tripping all over himself to get hold of some _part_ of the boy who was the most powerful, confident, brilliant person Peter could ever imagine.

Seven years of being near him, sleeping less than two yards away from him. Seven years of heavy red curtains that could have been pushed aside… If he could kneel by James's bed, just plead hard enough maybe James would allow him to push them aside… Nights when Remus and Sirius were out of the room and Peter sat up in his bed almost electrified with courage… _but not enough_.

Because James would reject him, maybe with a laugh, and it was only right when James was so perfect and Peter was so… nothing… Nothing but want and worship, and James _liked_ to be worshipped. He _liked_ to know how unspeakably wonderful he was.

But he already knew. Now that he had _her_ , he didn't need Peter to tell him…

And Peter didn't need… anything… but those two yards. Seeing him every morning, every night, every meal in between. James was like a small sun, and all Peter had to do was bask in his glow.

But soon all that would be over.

Peter felt very cold, imagining it.

And it did no good to cry.

It did no good to cry.

He would have to think of something else.


	10. Lupin Lets Go

He wouldn't have been anything at all, except for Sirius. After Sirius, he was straight.

No. After Sirius, he needed sex, to prove he could use it, to prove he could have it and not lose control. Hold those women in his arms and want to crush them but. Not. Do it.

And sometimes it really was a wine and dine and forget to call you in the morning. It was like that a lot of times. Most times. After the first couple of years, all the time.

He resented them for not knowing what he was. He resented them because they would shriek and tremble and have to be obliviated if they knew what he was.

He didn't resent them because they weren't a murderer, rotting his body away (no soul, because Remus didn't _believe_ in souls) in- that prison.

He didn't resent them because of that.

And he didn't sleep with witches (most times), witches who knew who he was (most times), witches who knew what he was.

He hated them the most, because they were proving their _bravery_ , doing him a favour in exchange for a _thrill_ , to sleep with him.

Remus despised thrill-seekers. He knew what happened to them.

xXxXx

The first wolf he killed was just that – a wolf. And Remus only found out later what became of his kind who became feral, who fed, on nights beyond and before the moon. His first emotion was satisfaction. Then disgust. Then horror – what if he died in some other form and didn't turn back? What was there to say he had ever been human?

It would have given him nightmares, but Remus had years ago taught himself not to dream.

After that, he hunted them.

xXxXx

He did dream.

He dreamt that Sirius was innocent.

…But it wasn't true. It wasn't.

Why would Sirius want to switch sides?

It didn't make sense.

…Or it made too much sense.

Remus didn't know what was worse – that Sirius had done it out of love, or done it out of pure, cold-hearted greed. Or hate. Or… whatever emotion ruled a psychotic's mind.

It had to be that. There was no such thing as love.

xXxXx

He was… between jobs… when Dumbledore's first owl found him. The Ukrainians hadn't been able to pay for his clearing out their swamps. Perhaps that was why he opened the letter.

Dumbledore's weary, apologetic, pleading voice wasn't enough to convince him.

Pending starvation wasn't quite enough to send him back to charity and memories.

…But the fact that Sirius Black had escaped from prison.

It wasn't quite enough, to want to kill his enemy.

But it was just enough, to need to see him again.


	11. Ethics

He lets his hand drift upward, under her skirt, over the fine hair on her thigh. She breathes a nervous giggle, and he doesn't look up to catch the excitement and uncertainty in her eye.

While Sirius Black is somewhere in the castle. Used a knife (knife, not claws; they would have caught the claws, and Sirius, even crazed, must be too careful for that), knife naked in his hands (under the fur), hunting.

While Remus Lupin offers comfort to a (wanton, available) frightened student. Who bites her lip and has no fear in her eyes.

Not for him.

Not for anything she should fear.

He pulls on the elastic of her underwear, pulls it down her legs and over her shoes, and she should feel anything but proud that her seduction of the shy, handsome, mysterious Professor Lupin succeeded.

She forgets all of that when he thrusts into her, hurting her, but his (lying, practiced) amber eyes are gentle, apologetic, calm. And she smiles forgiving at him while he takes her.

His strong hand in her hair, his mouth on her mouth, his hand on her breast, and he moves in and out and into her while she claws closer.

He's better at it than any of the boys.

She knew he would be.

She loses that thought in a moan, falling back on his desk because her back was hurting and it's soso good…

Later, she forgets everything.

As he wipes himself off, he knows he'll have no trouble meeting her eyes in the next 7th years' class, knowing what she doesn't know.

Knowing so many things no one else knows.

While Sirius Black prowls the halls, looking for another kill. Trying to kill a boy Remus remembers as an infant in Sirius Black's protective arms.

Even though Dumbledore gave the all-clear, face mild yet wary, while Severus Snape tried to pierce Remus's soul with those accusing black eyes.

Nothing.

But an empty smile.

Nothing for them.

He never promised anything.

He doesn't _know_ how Black is getting in.

And until someone _teaches_ him how Sirius Black (killer, comrade, lunatic) could have turned _traitor_ , Remus Lupin doesn't know a damn thing.

Not for anyone.

Not for a child.

Not for a victim.

Not for himself.


	12. Harry

The campus smelled of death, but it wasn't rancid, wasn't even particularly unpleasant compared to, say, some of Hagrid's cooking. Just an acrid sort of aftertaste. Curses burning.

He wanted to relax on the sun-warmed steps and enjoy the hazy, humid feeling. Before reaction started. Before-

"Harry." Lupin's slightly hoarse voice, full of insistence and concern. Amber eyes, willow-grey hair, face soft and lined, expression vaguely vacant as it had been since Sirius's death. "Harry, take this."

Defeat. It was easier not to argue. He accepted the proffered chunk and bit into it mechanically.

Harry hated the taste of chocolate.


	13. After the End

'There are no heroes.'

This is the title of Rita Skeeter's first article following the war.

Ever attuned to the times, she fills her missive with vindictive prose, echoing the sentiment of a generation too-often betrayed.

Perhaps Harry Potter was a hero, but Harry Potter abandoned them to Reconstruction, washing his hands of the world he had saved.

Perhaps Ronald Weasley was a hero, but he disappeared before the final sword was drawn; his body was never found.

Perhaps Hermione Granger was a hero, but as more and more of her tactical decisions come to light - her sorties against the ministry, her ruthless sacrifice of her comrades - the survivors are more eager to seek her blood for the lives she lost, rather than praise her for the lives she saved.

Perhaps Albus Dumbledore was a hero, but he died before he could see the fruition of all his work, and perhaps the war was his doing as much as it was Voldemort's.

Perhaps Neville Longbottom was a hero, but he closes his mouth and points his finger with all the rest - he, too, suffered and was never saved.

Perhaps Ginevra Weasley and Draco Malfoy were heroes, but all the people see on them are the scars of Dark Marks on their arms.

Perhaps Severus Snape was a hero. His death went unremarked. His sins, his sacrifices - unremembered.

Remus Lupin is a hero. One only has to look at him as he shakes open his copy of the Daily Prophet, perusing it with his one good eye, clasping it in his one whole hand, the other limb wasted to a near-unrecognizable twist of bone and sinew. Just enough digits to turn the page.

Remus Lupin is a hero because he suffered at a Death Eater's silver hand, and Remus Lupin is a hero because Remus Lupin survived. There are no stains on his record. Twice suspected, twice innocent, Remus Lupin has never been a traitor.

Remus Lupin sits in front of the Great Hall with the other teacher-survivors, McGonagall haggard in Dumbledore's seat, and if any adult earns respect from the cynical teenage students (survivors), it is him.

The children have learned that are worse things to fear than a werewolf.

There are no potions masters left. Remus locks himself in the shack on full-moon nights, and if one improvement came out of the war, it's the strength of _containment_ charms.

This pain is the only pain he can feel.

These nights are the only nights he can _forget_.

In the mornings, in the haze of just-awakening, Remus remembers Severus Snape. He feels the echoes of agony in his flesh, in every atom of blood and skin and bone and scar, and he huffs a breath of strained laughter into the frosty air, grateful that Snape is dead.


	14. Forgiven

One of the thousand and one nights after forgiveness:

The touch was gentle, warm, rasping fingertips on his arm, his shoulder. Remus imagined he could feel every ridge of Sirius's fingerprints, pushing aside and flattening the fine hair on his skin. Every millimetre of flesh was supersentized.

Remus was smiling.

Sirius grinned, watching the crease between Remus's brows, the twitch of his eyelids, feeling the _smooth skin_ beneath his fingers and waiting for the hitch of breath. _There_ , and then his hand flattened, his fingers finding the knob of bone at Remus's neck, tugging him, meeting him, and the _kiss_...

Through the sound of his own heart pounding, Remus heard Sirius whimper. But the kiss was strong and wet and _needy_ , so needy that Remus had clenched his hand in Sirius's soft, expensive shirt and was pulling on it, almost ripping it off in his effort to _drag Sirius close_.

Rearranging himself so that Remus was pressed against him, thin, hard chest shoved against his own, knees everywhere, and how were they going to...? But _there_ , topling over, and that delerious pressure of cock against cock, nevermind the trousers.

Remus was laughing. Sirius whined. Nibbling at Remus's lips. Worrying them, and Remus gasping.

Sirius was the silky hair in his hands, the heavy, grinding warmth that Remus jerked against, the teeth around his mouth. Sirius with his eyes closed, concentrating so hard in that moment and Remus gasped and moved faster, watching the creases in Sirius's brow, the solemnity in his closed eyes, but then Remus couldn't see or think a thing.

Remus moaning and shuddering against him, and Sirius groaned, pressed in so close so close... Could smell the sweat and the musk and the laundry soap, pressed so close so close against the man in his arms, and his orgasm was a cry, a rending, a sticky, damp sob.

Remus recovered quickly, stripped the clothes off his soiled, over-heated body, sat staring at Sirius and grinning, glowing.

Sirius smiled. Brilliant. Broken. So spent he couldn't move.

Broken.


	15. Bonus: Soundtrack

This is an actual Remus/Sirius playlist I made back in the day. Sadly I don't think The Cling songs are much available. Also, warning: my sense of humor comes through.

Lyric samples below.

Vedergällningen  
Garmarna

 _"Before the cock crew i was born  
\- Far are the paths that i follow -  
My mother was dead before the dawn  
\- Long, long she awaited her sorrow_

 _\- My father travelled the country round,  
An ill stepmother to me he found._

 _Into a needle she conjured me  
And said that longing would torture me  
And then she turned me into a knife  
And said i would suffer all my life._

 _She turned me into a pair of shears  
And said i'd be stunted all my years.  
A grey wolf then she made of me,  
And said no good would come of me."_

xxx

Libera Me  
The America Boychoir

 _Deliver me, O Lord, from death eternal on that fearful day,  
When the heavens and the earth shall be moved,  
When thou shalt come to judge the world by fire.  
I am made to tremble, and I fear, till the judgment be upon us, and the coming wrath,  
When the heavens and the earth shall be moved.  
That day, day of wrath, calamity and misery, day of great and exceeding bitterness,  
When thou shalt come to judge the world by fire._

xxx

The Werewolf  
Cat Power

 _Oh the werewolf, oh the werewolf  
Comes stepping along  
He don't even break the branches where he's gone_

 _Once I saw him in the moonlight, when the bats were a flying  
I saw the werewolf, and the werewolf was crying  
Cryin nobody knows, nobody knows, body knows  
How I loved the man, as I teared off his clothes.  
Cryin nobody know, nobody knows my pain  
When I see that its risen, that full moon again_

xxx

I Think I Love You  
The Partridge Family  
(Remus POV)

 _I'm sleeping  
And right in the middle of a good dream  
When all at once I wake up  
From something that keeps knockin' at my brain.  
Before I go insane I hold my pillow to my head  
And spring up in my bed  
Screaming out the words I dread:  
"I think I love you!"_

 _This morning  
I woke up with this feeling  
I didn't know how to deal with  
And so I just decided to myself  
I'd hide it to myself and never talk about it_

xxx

I Think I Love You  
Less Than Jake  
(Sirius POV)

 _I think I love you.  
Isn't that what life is made of?  
Though it worries me to say  
I've never felt this way._

 _I don't know what I'm up against.  
I don't know what it's all about.  
I got so much to think about._

 _Believe me,  
You really don't have to worry.  
I only want to make you happy  
And if you say,  
"Hey, go away, " I will,  
_ _but I think better still  
_ _I'd better stay around and love you._

xxx

For the Longest Time  
The Undertones (Billy Joel cover)

 _Maybe this won't last very long  
But you feel so right  
And I could be wrong_

 _Maybe I've been hoping too hard  
But I've gone this far  
And it's more than I hoped for_

xxx

Keep It To Yourself  
The Cling

 _In the dark,  
faces die._

 _You're all I have to touch._

xxx

The Lost Art of Keeping a Secret  
Queens of the Stone Age

 _Look for reflections in your face  
Canine devotion, time can't erase  
Out on the corner, locked in your room_

 _I never believe them and I never assume  
Still can't believe there is a lie  
Promise is promise, an eye for an eye  
We've got something to reveal  
No one can know how we feel_

xxx

What do I Get  
The Buzzcocks

 _I just want a lover like any other  
What do I get?_

xxx

Train in Vain  
The Clash

 _Now I got a job  
but it don't pay  
I need new clothes  
I need somewhere to stay_

xxx

If You Were Here  
Kent

 _Sleep, I don't need to sleep  
I hide my fist behind me  
Dream, I don't sleep I dream  
My conscience lays beside me_

 _If you were here, if you were here, if I was there  
If you were here today, this day  
If you were here, if you were here, if I was there  
If you were here today, this day_

xxx

Sweetheart  
Lamb

 _The Devil makes work for idle hands to do  
He can take these hands, if they're not touching you  
And these lips of mine would rather turn to stone  
Than kiss another now that you are gone_

 _Sweetheart  
I'm so alone  
Sweetheart  
When are you coming home?_

xxx

Heart  
Fleur

 _I'm so bored with you,  
My painful organ.  
So weak and ill,  
And bleeding._

 _I can stop  
Your life  
In a wrist  
Of the hand.  
'Cause blood  
Is just a liquid_

xxx

Mojo Pin  
Jeff Buckley

 _This body will never be safe from harm  
Still feel your hair, black ribbons of coal  
Touch my skin to keep me whole_

 _If only you'd come back to me  
If you laid at my side  
Wouldn't need no mojo pin  
To keep me satisfied_

xxx

Something Not Right  
The Cling

 _If you took some time  
to figure it out  
you wouldn't laugh about the things you laugh about._

 _I didn't know my touch could be so painful._

xxx

Care of Cell 44  
The Zombies

 _Counting the days until they set you free again  
Writing this letter hoping you're okay_

 _Come up and fetch you, saved up for the train fare money  
Kiss and make up and it will be so nice._

xxx

Have You Ever Spent the Night in Jail  
The Standells

 _Well I have._

 _Have you ever ate that refried food?_

xxx

You Can't Quit Me, Baby  
Queens of the Stone Age

 _It's a mistake, but who knows  
Followed you home, crawled in your window  
This life is a trip when you're psycho in love  
And I know_

 _Followed your friends, you were not there  
Slashed and I cut, I bled in the sink  
Heard what you said and you're laughing baby  
Slashed and I cut, and I do it for you  
I want you to notice when I'm not around  
Wherever you are_

 _You're solid gold  
I'll see you in hell_

xxx

Gherkin  
JJ72

 _As i walk alone through the streets of grey  
I feel special thoughts fade away  
Again_

 _If you see the beauty or beast  
You are too human all the same  
Again_

xxx

Metal Heart  
Cat Power

 _Losing the star without a sky  
Losing the reasons why  
You're losing the calling that you've been faking  
And I'm not kidding_

 _It's damned if you don't and it's damned if you do  
Be true 'cause they'll lock you up in a sad sad zoo  
Oh hidy hidy hidy what cha tryin to prove  
By hidy hidy hiding you're not worth a thing_

 _How selfish of you to believe in the meaning of all the bad dreaming_

 _Metal heart you're not hiding_  
 _Metal heart you're not worth a thing_

xxx


End file.
